Twelve Weeks Later
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: During a split from Ron, Hermione finds herself in a bar with an old friend.


**Written For:**

QLFC Round 10: Write about a pregnancy that causes problems for the relevant parties (parents, family, friends, etc)

Sewing 101 - Making the Garment: (setting) Leaky Cauldron, (action) Kissing, (restriction) Only trio era characters

Writing Club/Character Appreciation: (restriction) Main character is Muggleborn

Writing Club/Showtime: (word) Sensation

Writing Club/Film Festival: (item) Pregnancy Test, (plot) Getting Pregnant

 **Word Count: 1,629**

* * *

Hermione tilted her glass towards her lips slowly. The bar she was sat in was full of people; friends mingling, couples chattering, girls chirping like little birds. No one else was sat at the bar alone, though.

She sighed as she took another long drink of wine. It had been a while since she'd been in a bar, or drank wine anywhere but in the comfort of her own, empty home.

It hadn't always been empty. Her husband had lived there with her, up until he decided to cheat on her. Hermione pursed her lips at the memory: she'd come in home from a long day at the Ministry and found Ronald in her bed, entangled in the limbs of Lavender Brown.

She should've known it would happen eventually. Even long after their days at school and Ron's brief tryst with Lavender back then, she still hung around him like a bad smell. Hermione was so tired from work that she didn't always want to be intimate with him, and clearly Ron valued intimacy with anyone more than he valued the vows he'd made.

Hermione had kicked him out of her house there and then, and he'd gone crawling back to the Burrow with his tail between his legs.

Though, as much as she hated Ron right now and couldn't bear to have him within ten feet of her, she couldn't deny that her house was incredibly lonely. She hardly saw any of her friends—although Ginny was completely and utterly of the opinion that Ron was an arsehole, she was still his sister, and Harry was just as busy as her (though Hermione suspected he was avoiding her at work so he wouldn't have to take sides). That's why she'd been more than happy to take time off work when she'd received a letter from an old friend.

"Hermy-ninny," a familiar, deep voice came from behind her. Hermione swivelled around in her barstool and met eyes with Viktor Krum. "My apologies...I did not expect to be late."

Hermione beamed at her old friend. It had been many years since she'd seen Viktor. Like her, he was so busy with his career that he didn't have the time to meet up with friends. It was only because of the Quidditch World Cup that Viktor was back in England.

"It's not a problem," Hermione replied. It was so nice to hear her own voice, to be conversing with another person. "Please, sit down."

oOo

Viktor bought cocktails by the pitcher. "They don't sell drinks like this in Bulgaria," he slurred happily. The drink he was sipping was neon pink and sparkling, served in a tall martini glass with lemon garnish and a mini umbrella.

Hermione drank along with him, and gladly. It had been so long since she had fun with anyone that she wasn't about to let the moment pass by her, even if it meant that she'd end up a little more inebriated than she would normally allow herself to.

She felt so much lighter just after the first few cocktails, and lighter still as she continued to chat and laugh with Viktor. She was no longer one of those lonely women sat at the bar, drinking away her sorrows. She was enjoying someone else's company; someone who listened to her intently and laughed along with her and looked at her as though she was the only woman in the room.

It made her feel so much better. She didn't realise how much she'd needed it.

One cocktail turned into another, and eventually, Hermione's vision was swimming. She stood up from her barstool and stumbled. Viktor's hand caught her arm, preventing her from falling to the floor. "I think I should get going," she murmured, rubbing her forehead.

Viktor nodded. "Me too. I have a meeting tomorrow with the British National Quidditch Team." He paused, and looked away for a moment, as though he was shy. "I am staying at the...how you say...Leaking Cauldron?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Hermione corrected with a grin. "It's not too far from here. Do you remember the way?"

"I would apparate, but I don't trust I won't splinch myself."

"I'll show you."

Hermione and Viktor looped arms as they stumbled out of the bar and out into the streets of London. Hermione managed to navigate her way through drunken throngs of people and gaggling groups of girls, until they finally stood outside the famous wizarding pub that no Muggles could see: The Leaky Cauldron.

"I think it is supposed to be me who walks _you_ home," Viktor said with a lopsided grin.

"Well, I've never been one for gender traditions," Hermione replied. She looked up into Viktor's dark, twinkling gaze. His eyes seemed to be growing bigger.

Suddenly, they were kissing. It was sloppy, their movements laboured and slow, fingers grasping at each other's faces clumsily—but a shivering sensation was running up Hermione's spine. It seemed like so long since she had been kissed like this.

"Can you take this upstairs to your room?" a voice said sharply. Viktor and Hermione sprang away from each other, looking over at the intruder. It was Hannah, the new landlady of the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione knew her from Hogwarts. She smiled over at Hermione, her eyes glittering. Seeing as she lived in the busiest pub in London, she'd probably heard all about Ron's infidelity, and was glad to see Hermione was moving on from him.

Hermione looked back at Viktor as Hannah drifted out of the room. "I could...if you…" she started.

Viktor spoke at the same time. "You could come to my…"

They both laughed. "Do you…" Viktor started, raising his eyebrows slightly questioningly.

Hermione nodded.

oOo

It had been exactly twelve weeks since Hermione had seen Viktor, when she woke up in the morning and promptly threw up. She worked out how long it had been once she'd finished being sick. Hermione was _never_ sick, so she knew that something was amiss.

When she didn't come on her period on the twentieth day of the month, like she did every month, she was even more certain. Perhaps she'd lost track, as she often did, but thinking about it, she was sure she hadn't had a period in the last couple of months. Before rushing out, she checked the calendar for confirmation, and then she left the house. She picked up a pregnancy test from the nearest Muggle drugstore.

The red plus sign and the smiley face confirmed her fears.

She ground the heel of her palms into her eyeballs as she sat on the toilet lid. How could she let this happen? How could she be so stupid?

"Hermione!" came a voice from downstairs. "Lunch is ready."

Hermione swallowed. She had let Ron back into her life just a couple of weeks before, under the premise of trying to fix their failing marriage. Now, she was about to risk whatever foundations they were slowly building back again.

She walked down the stairs slowly, holding the pregnancy test in both hands as though it was a ticking time-bomb. Ron turned around to greet her, holding out a plate of bacon and eggs.

He dropped the plate as soon as he saw the pregnancy test in Hermione's hand, and his face split into a grin. "You're pregnant?"

"Ron—"

"That's incredible!" He used his wand to wordlessly clear up the mess and hurried over to Hermione. "I can't believe it. Did you just take this?"

"Ron!" she shouted impatiently.

"Bloody hell, what's the matter?"

"I got pregnant twelve weeks ago."

"Right…"

"We weren't together twelve weeks ago."

Realisation spread across Ron's face, and his grin twisted into a frown. "You slept with somebody else?" he asked accusingly.

"We weren't _together_ , Ronald!" she snapped, annoyed by the hypocritical turn the conversation had taken.

"I'd hardly been away for long!" hissed Ron. "You couldn't wait, what, two minutes to get someone else into our bed?"

"At least I waited until we were split," Hermione snarled. "Unlike you," she added pointedly.

Ron fell silent. He pursed his lips together in a fashion that Professor McGonagall would be proud of, and stalked out of the kitchen. Hermione stood by the counter, listening to him stomping around in the bedroom as he threw things into his trunk, and then dragged it down the stairs and out of the door.

She didn't fight him, she didn't chase him. She wasn't the one being unreasonable. He was.

oOo

Her baby bump had already popped when she finally decided to write to Viktor.

Hermione had sent him a letter a week ago, and she was alone in her kitchen with her hands on her swollen belly when there was a knock on the back door.

Viktor stood in the doorway when she flung the door open, and he pulled her into his arms as soon as he laid his eyes on her. "You should have told me earlier," he murmured into the top of her hair. "You should have told me as soon as you knew."

Hermione pulled away and looked at the floor. "You're so busy with Quidditch," she said quietly. "I didn't want you to have to risk your career."

"I have taken a break from Quidditch," Viktor told her. "I am staying in Britain until the baby is born...and however long I need to after that."

"Really?" Hermione looked up at him. She hated feeling so needy and vulnerable, but right now, she needed someone that she trusted, and Viktor was the perfect choice. "You'd do that for me?"

"For you," Viktor said, and gingerly placed his palm over the top of Hermione's hand. "For all of us. Everything will be okay."

 _End_


End file.
